


twin high-maintenance machines

by teandfailure



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, American Sign Language, Day drinking, Deaf Alphonse Elric, Deaf Character, Deaf Edward Elric, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Misunderstandings, Rating will go up, Sign Language Interpreter Roy Mustang, discussion of mental health issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 05:28:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20943014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teandfailure/pseuds/teandfailure
Summary: in which elysia hughes has a birthday party, roy has a series of significant revelations, and ed has a couple drinks.(or, “but i thoughtyouwere straight!”)





	twin high-maintenance machines

**Author's Note:**

> so! first and important disclaimer that your humble author is and will always be a hearing person. i've been learning american sign language for about eight years now and have a degree in interpreting, and i've always found deaf au's to be pretty unfaithful to my experiences knowing actual deaf people, hence, this fic. my intention is not to step on anyones toes in any way, and if you yourself are deaf and want to talk to me about any of the content in this fic, please feel free to reach out. 
> 
> disclaimer the second: this is one of the many, many times where i must disclaim that i am american and Sorry™. this fic is based on my experience of american sign language and american deaf culture, but if you live outside of the us, things might be a bit different in your country. 
> 
> third, this is a fic about mental illness! it is a lighthearted fic overall, but there is discussion of mental health problems from many/most of the protags. message me if you have more specific questions <3
> 
> now that i'm done showing you all my disclaimers, please keep all hands and feet inside the ride and enjoy the show. 
> 
> text in double quotes is spoken english ("speaking")  
text in single quotes is sign language ('signing')

roy is hiding in the hughes’ kitchen, looking contemplatively at two different whiskeys he’s unearthed from maes’ rarely-used liquor cabinet and trying to decide which reminds him less of paint thinner. socializing is one thing — roy is _so good_ at schmoozing, he’s had loads of practice, and everyone in attendance today is somewhere between a colleague and a friend, so it’s not even like he has to make a particularly good impression — but this level of _ed being oblivious to all the homoerotic subtext_ necessitates at least two shots if he’s to survive the rest of the party with any shred of his dignity in tact. 

… of course, that’s precisely when (and where) ed finds him. 

‘you make a habit of ditching your niece at her birthday party?’ he asks, giving roy a look he can’t quite read. skepticism, maybe, mixed with the urge to laugh at a situation that’s not quite funny. 

roy scrolls through a couple possible responses in his head — ‘i’m preparing her for a lifetime of being disappointed by her uncle roy,’ ‘it’s so obvious you have no idea how i look at you that sometimes it gets the better of me’ — before he settles on the more diplomatic, ‘i just- needed some air.’

ed looks pointedly from roy to the bottles, then back to roy again, and gives roy a single raised eyebrow.

‘isn’t that what everyone means when they say they need some air?’ roy signs back.

‘is it?’ ed counters easily. ‘i think that says more about the company you keep.’

‘you’re still here, aren’t you?,’ roy asks, and it makes ed laugh, a smile that touches his eyes and touches roy’s heart, as well as several places slightly further south. 

ed steps behind the counter so they’re nearly shoulder to shoulder — well, ed’s shoulder to roy’s arm — and he’s close enough that roy can feel the heat coming off of his body, warm from being outside all afternoon, bare skin distractingly close where their respective t-shirt sleeves end. ed is staring down the two bottles like they’re enemies in a western, and for a minute, it feels like roy’s comment lingers — _you’re still here, aren’t you?,_ like they’re both trying to figure out if this is flirting and neither one of them can come up with a straight answer. the banter is second nature, now, but roy would swear there hasn’t always been this… tension? spark? rat’s nest of nerves where his stomach used to be?

‘i could also point out,’ ed says, turning back to him after a pause long enough roy thought it might just swallow him whole, ‘that you’re not exactly getting some air if the party is outside and you’re inside.’ 

‘you could point that out, yes,’ roy agrees, ‘but now i’m starting to feel like you’re just coming for my character for your own amusement.’

‘oh come on, give me some credit,’ ed says. ‘if i wanted to give you a hard time, i fucking would — you’ve seen me get mad before, so don’t insult me by thinking this is the best i can do.’

roy blinks. ‘... i’m afraid i’m not following.’ 

ed just keeps _looking_ at him, his eyes warm and liquid deep in a way that makes roy shiver, and he’s dimly aware that theirs is a visual language, they _have_ to look at each other, but the eye contact is certainly making him sweat, inside in the sanctity of maes’ air conditioning.

‘i really feel like can’t emphasize enough that it’s the middle of the afternoon and i found you alone in the liquor cabinet,’ ed says, and if he weren’t grinning so damn hard roy would assume this is some kind of intervention. ‘i’m your friend, and i care about you, and clearly the responsible thing to do when finding you about to get drunk alone is to keep you company and get moderately-but-manageably drunk together.’ 

roy chuckles in spite of himself — it should hurt his feelings, the way people in his life talk about his drinking, but these days, he’s mostly too tired to care. he’s so tired, and he’s in so deep with edward, it’s a miracle ed hasn’t caught him staring yet; it’s a miracle this hasn’t already blown up in some kind of spectacular, self-inflicted disaster, and it’s making him incredibly nervous, having something this nice in his life that he hasn’t managed to fuck up yet. ‘you’re a true gentleman, edward. a dear friend, willing to make sacrifices where it counts when the time comes-’

‘i’m providing a community service,’ ed replies, still smiling at him. he turns to the row of cabinets behind him, bangs a couple of doors too loudly before he finds what he’s looking for and spins back around on his heel to face roy, triumphant, two shot glasses stacked in his right hand. ‘your dumb ass is just lucky al drove me here.’

a voice in the back of roy’s head says, very quietly, that this is a bad idea; it’s broad daylight, for one thing, at the closest thing to a family function roy has left these days, and it’s _ed,_ far too open for his own good, completely oblivious to the effect he has on the other people in the room and affecting roy seemingly more each day now. ed’s brother is here, and he doesn’t need another reason to disapprove of roy before he’s even gotten started wooing ed in the first place. half of the people close to him think he has a drinking problem, and while he’s reasonably certain that they’re wrong, he knows how this is going look. hell, how it _already_ looks. 

‘if you can’t decide,’ ed says, pulling roy out of his head with a hand on his arm that sparks like a frayed wire, ‘that means we start with a shot of each.’ 

‘you’re insane,’ roy says dizzily.

ed stops for a second, his hands poised to open one of the bottles, and roy feels the floor drop out from under him at the thought of having to go back out to the party stone-cold sober. he has visions of ed, sign-singing ‘happy birthday’ with far too much pizzazz because he knows he can make elysia laugh that way; ed pulling out what will undoubtedly be elysia’s favorite present, a tiny plastic chemistry set, poorly wrapped but still somehow oozing trademark elric charm; ed eating a piece of pink-and-floral birthday cake with frosting smeared on his face, laughing too hard at one of maes’ jokes. 

‘’you’re insane’ doesn’t mean ‘stop,’’ he says slowly. it gets exhausting, pretending to have his shit together all the time, and ed doesn’t seem like he’s judging; in spite of a couple of sharp edges, edward was fiercely eloquent when he wanted to be, in both of the languages roy knew and purportedly several others, and he seemed… honest in his intentions, if a bit unconventional when it came to his methods. 

ed laughs, and it feels real, comfortable and too big in his chest. ‘i like the way you think,’ he says, and roy watches the liquor pour, desperate to look anywhere but ed’s eyes for a few seconds. ed’s gaze is dizzying, a whirlwind he gets caught up in every single time they’re alone in a room together, and his eyes are intoxicating even in dim light, sparkling and glinting gold.

‘i’m gonna have to dig really deep for this one,’ ed says, and he nudges one of the glasses toward roy. ‘i’m pretty sure i threw both of these up so many times in college that i haven’t had the courage to go back since.’

roy pulls a face. ‘i love maes dearly, but he does have terrible taste,’ he says. ‘i’ve tried getting him the good stuff, for his birthday and whatever, but he always says he can’t tell the difference, and then the next time i come over…’ he lets his gaze fall back to the shots again.

‘got ya,’ ed says, laughing. he picks the shot up delicately, with just two fingers, and makes a big show of taking an appraising sniff, then miming a little dry heave. ‘are you ready to do this? i don’t think shit is gonna get better with age.’

it’s probably been about twenty minutes since roy had been confident enough he’d dodged riza’s tail to slip inside for a few minutes, and presumably no one has noticed his absence yet, since he hasn’t been dragged bodily back out to the party by an over-exuberant maes or quietly concerned gracia. ‘we might as well,’ he says. ‘i really should be getting back.’

ed nods once, jostles but doesn’t disturb the mess of a bun his hair is tied up in, and then he’s picking up the shot glass again and offering it to roy to toast. ‘should we drink to your health? you’re way older than me, you gotta need it more than i do.’

‘even in my hour of need, you come at me with this slander,’ he gripes, but he’s itching for the shot, now, itching for even a bit of chemical respite as this afternoon moves slow as molasses and ed keeps _looking_ at him. he raises his own shot to meet ed’s, nearly spills it in his eagerness and then has to choke it down without meeting ed’s eyes while he pulls himself together. 

the shot burns, and that he doesn’t sputter is a testament to how stupid hard he’s willing to try to impress ed more than anything else. when he finally has the courage to look up again, ed’s face is curled up as though he’s just tasted something sour. ‘worse than i remembered, which is kind of impressive given i have more memories of this shit coming up than going down.’

‘that… sounds like college.’

ed cracks a smile, and roy feels his heart give a particularly emphatic pound against the inside of his ribcage. ‘at the very least, i’ve graduated to puking up slightly higher quality liquor these days. ‘s easier on the throat.’

roy _cannot_ be thinking about ed’s throat at a time like this. he shuts that thought down as quickly as it can spawn in his mind, and busies himself with the other bottle of whiskey — the one maes seems to prefer, if the liquid levels in the bottles are any indication — trying to keep his hands steady enough to pour another round. 

‘please don’t see this as a challenge,’ he says feebly, as if ed has ever done anything of the sort. ‘if you drink yourself to death on my account, your brother will be honor bound to come after me, and you wouldn’t want al to get wrapped up in a murder, would you?’

ed rolls his eyes. ‘al knows me too well for that; he’d know this stunt was my particular brand of stupid-brilliant idea.’ he pauses, fidgeting absently with the rim of his shot glass. ‘he can’t be taking out valuable interpreters every time i come up with a dumb scheme; he’s got a fuckin’ day job, for one thing, and he’s always thinking more about the greater good than what my dumb ass needs.’

roy blinks. ‘was that… a compliment? buried in there somewhere, underneath all the self-deprecation and blind praise for your brother, did you actually say something _nice_ about me and my work? i’m sorry, i’m just a little taken aback-’

‘never again,’ ed promises. ‘you are _the worst,_ and i will not be saying anything of the sort anywhere in your visual range ever again.’ it’s subtle, but roy would swear he can see a hint of blush creeping into ed’s cheeks. ‘shut up and drink, mustang.’

‘if you insist.’ they clink their glasses again, fingers nearly touching for a split second, and then roy is knocking back the shot reflexively, robotically, trying to recall the once-practiced motions of swallowing without really tasting and only half succeeding. 

‘this one is worse,’ roy says, coughs a little and tries to get his bearings back. ‘what the fuck, maes?’

ed chuckles, watching him with a look on his face that roy can’t quite place. ‘next time elicia has a birthday, i’ll be sure to bring a bottle.’

_next time_ is far too close to a promise, and it makes roy nervous — good nervous, sparks of something hot in his stomach, sickly familiar and full of promise. he hasn’t been this stricken with anyone in years, and it’s almost- fun, the heady rush of nervousness, the throb of his heartbeat reverberating through his chest like a bass drum. ‘very kind of you,’ he says. __

‘kind of _you_ giving me good reason to drink during the daylight hours.’ he fidgets with the shot glass for a second, tracing shapes on the side of the glass. ‘you ready to head back out to the party? i don’t know what the timeline for this shindig is supposed to be, but i assume elysia is going to want to put her entire face in the cake eventually, and we can’t miss that.’ 

roy lets his eyes unfocus as the alcohol clouds his vision for a second, then blinks everything clear again. the whiskey feels like a soft blanket, a warm weight that keeps the rest of the world at a comfortably-dulled distance. ‘i’m ready when you are,’ he offers, flashes ed a wobbly smile before he can talk himself out of it. ‘really, edward, i’— _feel like you see right through me, and the fact that you’re still here in spite of the things you’ve seen means more to me than i could ever openly express to you_ — ‘i just want you to know how appreciative i am of everything you’ve done for me over the years.’

ed makes a face, a mix of disgust and healthy skepticism. ‘shut up,’ he fires back. ‘don’t be getting all soft on me now.’ 

roy is so, _so_ fucked; he can already feel his traitorous face starting to blush, the alcohol making him all the more susceptible than normal. ‘after you,’ he offers, does a halfhearted vanna white in the direction of the door, and ed takes the hint, maybe more out of pity for roy than any real desire to return to the party. ed ducks through the doorway and out into the blistering heat, then holds the door open for roy as he follows.

* * *

the hughes’ backyard is properly enormous, which is appropriate given they’ve invited a truly astonishing number of people to the party; elysia is turning two this year and can probably only meaningfully distinguish a handful of faces from the blur of the crowd, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have an ocean of supporters awaiting the day she should ever need to call on them. it takes a village, as they say.

it’s always something of a strange experience for roy, to look out into a crowd of people and know nearly every face. he’s never known a family like this — never known more relatives than he has fingers, never known life in a pack like this, in a community so tight-knit many of the strings were irrevocably knotted and tangled together. the deaf community was always smaller than you think. 

alphonse spots edward almost immediately, catches his eye with effortless elric-brother telepathy and beckons him over to their table next to the punch bowl with the tiniest hint of a smile and a raised eyebrow. alphonse is always perfectly composed, all neatly-clipped corners where ed is jagged edges, edward’s parallel and equal in so many ways and his foil only occasionally, as far as roy could tell. 

alphonse isn’t looking at him, but ed does, turns on his heel and starts ‘hey, d’you wanna come sit with us? it looks we’ve got open chairs at our-’

he doesn’t have to come up with a gracious way to say no, thank fucking christ, because maes’ hand is on his shoulder before ed can even finish, a life preserver he’s been floundering for for the better part of half an hour now. ‘just the person i was looking for,’ he says, flashes ed his most charming smile. ‘sorry to have to interrupt, ed- i just need to have a word with roy.’

roys nods his goodbye to ed as maes tows him away at the elbow, around a corner toward a small stand of trees near the edge of the yard. it’s a quaint puddle of shade, tucked between the arms of the trees, offering reprieve from the beating sun in addition to shelter from prying eyes. 

“is everything okay?” roy asks, after clearing his throat. “you’re a rather troubling shade of red.”

“i feel like i should be the one asking you that,” maes hisses. “even riza didn’t know where you’d run off to, and i didn’t want gracia to worry about you-”

“please tell me you didn’t.”

maes’ eyes narrow. “wait- are you _drunk?_ jesus, roy-”

_“please_ tell me you didn’t,” roy says, more firmly this time, “let your lovely innocent wife start worrying about me.” _please tell me you didn’t tell her the truth about me_ hangs heavily in the air, thick like smoke, but roy doesn’t say it, because he already knows. 

“she worries appropriately about you, as do i, as does everyone here, but that’s not- you didn’t answer my question, roy.” maes is good with people, good at smoothing out his facial expression so he’s not giving anything away, good at reading roy like he’s a trashy tabloid magazine and disarming him with far too big a smile on his face. 

“no, i’m not,” roy says flatly. it doesn’t really hurt anymore — everyone assuming he’s an alcoholic is nothing more than a dull ache he can tune out like radio static. “i went inside for a few minutes to cool off, and ed found me-”

“oh my god.”

“it wasn’t-”

“do _not _try to talk to me like i don’t know you, roy mustang.” he pauses for a second, pulls a face like he’s trying to think about how to phrase it. “you already know how i feel, but- you’re going to have to talk to him about it at some point.”

“i do know how you feel,” roy agrees, and hopes his lack of response is response enough. “i don’t remember asking for your advice, interestingly enough.”

maes rolls his eyes. “i’m just saying that i don’t think running from your feelings is a healthy way to live! especially when things are as- ambiguous- as they seem to be with you and ed. i just think it would be good for you talk to him about your feelings and try to suss out how he feels towards you are before you go jumping to any dramatic conclusions-” 

roy makes a face, and his voice comes out far too indignant; he’s fortunate that there’s no one else within earshot. “i don’t think i’m _jumping to conclusions_ given the evidence-”

“what evidence do you have again?” maes asks, flat

in truth, ‘evidence’ is a very generous term for what roy has; if he were being strictly honest, it’s more in the ‘hunch’ category, confirmed only by his own observations of ed’s behavior and the lack of anything blatantly contrary popping up on his (fritzy, depressed) radar. “do we really have to get into this now?” he says instead, because they’ve had this conversation before. “i feel like the middle of elysia’s birthday party isn’t exactly appropriate.”

maes gives him a funny look, like there’s a retort on the tip of his tongue that he doesn’t want to say. something about the notion that there’s _more,_ something maes has been holding back all this time, makes his stomach drop. 

“i’ve got my eye on you, roy,” he says instead, and it doesn’t sound ominous, exactly, but it falls somewhere short of reassuring. “we just want you to know that everyone here cares about you, and we want to be supportive in any way that we can-”

“oh my _god,_ you know this is exact what i meant by ‘can we not get into this now,’ right?”

“just let me say my piece,” maes pleads, hands up in overdramatic surrender. he’s giving roy these concerned eyes, heavy with that sympathy/empathy mixture that maes always exuded with the people he cared about. “it’s nothing too heavy, i promise, i just- seriously, roy, you’ve got more friends than you realize. you mean a lot to a lot of people, myself and my family included, and we’ll step up to the plate if you ask us to. i know lots of other people feel the same way.”

he meets roy’s eyes hard, like he’s trying to visually punctuate the topic change. it works beautifully, and maes squares off his shoulders and shakes a few stray pieces of hair out of his eyes, and when he speaks this time, it’s lighter, airy like champagne bubbles. “and i don’t know if edward is interested in you like that, but i do know he’s not the kind of man who’d make a big deal about it, either way. i think you could talk to him, is what i mean.”

having to concede ground to maes is a painfully regular experience in roy’s life these days, but that didn’t make it any less of a nails-on-a-chalkboard experience for him. “i know that i could,” he agrees. “i just question if i should.”

maes shrugs in response. “you’re never going to know if you don’t ask.”

“and you’re never going to let this go, are you?”

“okay, okay,” maes says. “i have now done my due diligence as your best friend, and i swear on my beloved wife and daughter that i will not try to make you talk about feelings for at least the rest of the day. i’ll even let you spike the punch and tell gracia i didn’t notice!”

“not with that swill you buy,” roy counters, tries to pretend he’s not immensely relieved to have dodged that bullet by the skin of his teeth. “can we get back to elysia’s birthday, please? before we have to start planning the next one?”

maes gives him the most good-natured of eye rolls; even that is somehow still charming on him. “let’s get back to it, then. it should be almost time for cake.”

* * *

everyone has gathered around the table on the hughes’ back deck for the main event; it’s a horseshoe of familiar faces, family and almost-family blurring together, with only a few people in the mix whom roy hasn’t met before, and everyone jostling elbows and knees trying to find space at the overcrowded table. a few of the taller people are anchoring a sort of second row, filling in the gaps between peoples’ shoulders to get a clear line of sight. there’s a small mountain of gifts piled up at one end of the spread, and behind them, on the opposite end, roy can glimpse what must be the birthday cake, white and pink frosting with fondant flowers trailing down the sides. 

‘this is it!’ maes is saying, exuberant, almost brash. people start tapping shoulders to get everyone’s attention to the front. ‘if everyone can turn their attention in this direction, please, we’re almost ready to cut the cake.’

ed has ended up in the first row, roy notes but dutifully does not comment further. he’s standing with winry rockbell to one side and his brother on the other, the three of them tangled up in a senseless and worthless argument up until the last possible second. it would be troubling if roy didn’t know how frighteningly typical all of this was for the elrics. 

‘can you two _behave?’_ alphonse says, his gaze darting from winry to ed and back quickly, like tennis. 

‘where’s the fun in that?’ ed responds, but he turns away from winry, jerks his head in the direction maes is standing. 

‘thank you all for coming,’ maes is saying, grandly, with stiff shoulders and formal posture. ‘it means more to gracia and i than you could possibly know, to have elysia grow up in such a loving and supporting community. at first, gracia and i were so nervous about being the parents of a deaf child — not because she couldn’t hear, but because we worried she would never be able to relate to us, even if we were committed to using sign language with her. we are so lucky she has such wonderful deaf adult role models and such a beautiful community standing at her back. we would not be here today without the help of all of you.’

maes looks not so subtly at alphonse, and then at edward, and roy looks, too. alphonse says simply, ‘my brother and i were very privileged in our upbringing, coming from a deaf family. we always had access to our family conversations, and it’s sad how uncommon that is for deaf children.’

he turns toward his brother, and ed nods in agreement. ‘we’re so grateful for hearing parents who are invested in and committed to giving their kids access to sign language and deaf culture from such a young age,’ edward continues, seamlessly picking up where his brother left off. ‘this community made us who we are, and it’s an honor to be able to give that back.’

roy tries, as valiantly as he is able, not to stare, but he still gets lost in the different shades of blonde and the shape of ed’s mouth for a few seconds before he’s able to wrench his eyes away. ed was so charismatic, hypnotic and drawing people into him without ever really trying — roy couldn’t even tell if he knew he was doing it. 

ed doesn’t catch him looking, thank god, but riza most certainly does. she serves roy a scathing-hot look that promises further interrogation at her leisure, gives him a moment to squirm, then nudges him and his gaze back towards the front of the room.

at the head of the table, elysia is giggling from her high chair, bouncing up and down with as much exuberance as she can given she’s strapped into her seat. when she sees her mother moving the birthday cake over toward her side of the table, her eyes light up. 

‘how old are you this year, young lady?’ maes asks, tries to distract her and only half succeeds. 

‘two!’ elysia responds, beaming and proud, adorably clumsy with her signing. ‘two years old!’

gracia sets the cake down, a white buttercream base adorned with floral decorations — roses, and carnations, and probably several other flowers he’s gifted to lovers past only to forget the names — with two simple white candles anchoring either side, flowers clustered around them. gracia’s even piped ‘happy birthday, elysia’ across the middle of the cake in a soft, baby pink color. roy thinks he overheard discussion that the cake itself having been devil’s food. he’s always been a sucker for anything chocolate gracia baked, and he and elysia are alike in that regard. 

it’s a lovely cake, truly; if it tastes anywhere near as good as it looks, roy expects that if all these shenanigans with ed kill him, he’ll be able to die happy with a stomach full of delicious cake and a truly obscene number of calories. 

gracia takes a step closer to maes, so they’re standing nearly shoulder to shoulder. ‘is everyone ready?’ she asks the crowd, then turns back to elysia. ‘more importantly, are you ready?’

elysia nods, jerky and too fast, almost as if she were a bobblehead. 

maes leads the crowd in a rousing rendition of happy birthday, as big of a production as he can make it. he uses his proper interpreting posture, the kind of set of his shoulders that demands respect, as though he’s leading something far more serious than a chorus of people sign-singing with all the pizazz in the world. 

roy notices elysia’s eyes are glued to ed for most of the song, and he laughs, because his are, too.

* * *

alphonse corners him after they finish with cake and gifts, once the party begins to fragment again into the kind of splintered, uneven pieces that always formed when a large group of friends and acquaintances got together. riza and some of the guys from the old team have hunkered down at the table closest to the house, rehashing the same old arguments in a mix of two languages and propositioning each other to make obscure bets over shots of maes’ truly gutrot liquor. most of the children are wrapped up in what looks like an ever-more-complicated game of tag in the grass — the kind of game with rules only children can remember — and there’s a cluster of parents gathered on the back porch, grouped around the table in layers with some people standing behind, hands on arms to get someone’s attention, taps on the table or stomps on the floor depending on proximity.

al finds him on maes’ front porch, tucked away from all of the action where roy had been intently staring into a potted plant and trying to radiate his signature riza-brand distress signals. 

(he’d been giving off distress signals all right, but they hadn’t exactly had the intended impact. roy makes note, as if he weren’t certain of it already, that alphonse is clearly the elric brother blessed with the gift of perception.) 

‘what exactly do you think you’re doing with my brother?’ alphonse never gives more than he wants to, and his face is a practiced neutral, devoid of the emotion ed can’t seem to keep away from his face. he remembers, dimly, that alphonse is an ASL teacher, and it feels very textbook, the way he gives exactly as much on his face as the language requires and not an ounce more.

‘pardon?’ roy asks, too quickly, then winces when he realizes that alphonse might misunderstand; the last thing he needs in a moment like this is to give alphonse another reason to think he’s incompetent, in addition to the display of more everyday dumbassery he’s put on thusfar today-

‘my brother,’ al repeats, not misunderstanding him in the slightest. ‘we both know ed is oblivious, but i certainly am not, and i’m just trying to understand what your intentions are with him.’

‘my intentions with him?’ roy asks blankly.

alphonse gives him a single, scathing raised eyebrow. ‘i see how you look at him,’ al says simply, and his gaze is hot, glowing like embers. ‘ed is brilliant, don’t get me wrong, but he’s not always the best at reading people.’

roy feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up. ‘do you think he’s reading me wrong?’ it comes out more defensive than he means to, but before he can fumble his way through a more detailed explanation, a half retraction, tripping over himself trying to be polite, alphonse just... shrugs in response.

‘i’m not trying to charge in here on the offensive,’ al says; he must realize how all of this looks. ‘i just don’t want my brother to get hurt, mr. mustang. he’s been in situations before- where people have been taken advantage of him, or where people have wanted experiment with him-’

roy feels a few feathers ruffle at that. ‘i can assure you i am doing nothing of the sort,’ he says stiffly. ‘no disrespect intended, alphonse, but i don’t think i like what you’re implying.’

‘i’m not implying anything,’ al replies easily, gives him a practiced, neutral smile that sends a chill up roy’s spine. ‘i just want to ascertain if you’re playing with his feelings.’ 

it feels like the world stops for a tremendous, shuddering moment. the ambient noise is roaring loud in his ears, snippets of someone laughing out loud at a particularly good joke and someone’s chair legs scraping against the deck, just audible over the pounding beat of his floundering heart. time slows down, melts and gets all distorted at the edges like a salvador dali painting, and roy truly, honestly does not know how long he stands there, stock still and gaping like a goddamn idiot, trying to get his head around the idea that _he_ could be playing with ed’s feelings. the idea that ed has feelings for _him,_ enough feelings to warrant the alphonse elric version of a shovel speech. 

the air is molasses thick when he tries to form signs, and his hands are shaking like a nervous teenager. he’s suddenly very aware that he’s sweating, baking in a black shirt with the sun hitting his back. 

‘alphonse,’ he signs, because he wants to make sure he’s understanding everything correctly here. his brain is jumping to conclusions at nearly record speeds. ‘you said- you asked if i was playing with his feelings. _ed’s_ feelings.’

alphonse looks at him blankly for a long moment — roy counts in his head, as metered as he can, like he’d been taught in school, starting with one — and he’s just hit seventeen when alphonse’s composure breaks. 

for a moment, his face starts to fall, and with it, too, roy’s heart goes, sinks so far down into his ribcage that it makes him feel momentarily sick. 

then, alphonse’s face contorts into a big smile, utter delight like he’s a small child. realization dawns on his features, and he looks so much like edward like this, giddy and overjoyed to have figured something out before anyone else did. 

‘you mean you didn’t…?’ alphonse is grinning nearly ear to ear, now. ‘oh my god, this is _perfect.’_

‘it is? are you sure?’

‘you’re both morons, obviously, but that’s- that’s the perfect part about it. you’re both the same kind of blind to how other people care about you.’

roy’s head is spinning, and his heart is beating fast from the sudden influx of anxiety; he’s never seriously considered getting this far, and he feels wildly unprepared for the prospect of talking to ed about his feelings with any sort of real intent behind it. all of his prior thoughts on the matter were relegated to his most pathetic daydreams of what his hands might feel like in ed’s hair, what ed might taste like, how soft his skin would feel under roy’s fingers. ‘i… i think perhaps i should be insulted, but i can’t really bring myself to care at the moment.’

alphonse looks at him, and it cuts right through him. it’s disarming, certainly, having al look him up and down like roy is a puzzle he’s just finished solving. ‘funny, isn’t it?’

his pulse is ringing so loud in his ears, it’s almost making him dizzy. ‘has he… for how long?’ he asks weakly, grappling for something to cling to. 

‘i think it’s only been a few months since he’s really wised up and cut his way through all the thick brush ensnaring his heart enough to admit he has feelings for you,’ al says, gives a shrug. ‘but he’s been looking at you for way longer than that.’ 

roy contemplates that a moment, rolls it around in his mouth to taste it. ‘ed probably thinks i’m not interested in him, right?’ he says, before he can think better of it, before he remembers that he should be embarrassed, or at least eager to earn alphonse’s approval. ‘because i never flirted with him, because i didn’t want your adonis of a brother to be creeped out by some old man putting the moves on him-’

alphonse gives him a look that’s heavy, dark and laden with something roy can’t quite read. ‘maybe suffice to say that edward has always had some particular interests, and he’s never been very good at hiding things from me,’ he says, then gives a big shift of his shoulders, a visual change of topic if roy has ever seen one. ‘the answer to your question, however, is yes, probably. he certainly thinks he’s been flirting with you and you’re not really reciprocating, but he’s at least self aware enough to realize he can’t read anyone’s vibe for shit, so like- don’t get yourself down about it. you just have to tell him how you feel.’

roy blinks. ‘you know, you’re not the first person to tell me that today.’

alphonse is still watching him, and roy notices then that his eyes are the same honey-gold color as ed’s; their hair is slightly different shades of blonde, and alphonse has a sharper jawline, but their eyes are the same. ‘do i really have to spell it out for you here?’

this time, roy does wince. ‘no, thank you. i’m quite alright with what i’ve got now.’ 

alphonse smiles at him, and this one feels softer, warmer somehow. ‘i really should be getting back to the party,’ he says, gestures vaguely behind them, toward the house. ‘i’ll see you later, mr. mustang.’ 

roy tries to laugh, and half succeeds; it comes out garbled and unsteady, but coupled with a smile, he thinks he pulls it off. ‘you can call me ‘roy,’ you know. i think we’re there.’ 

thankfully, al laughs back. he’s poised on the edge of his chair, like he’s ready to duck out at any possible second. ‘have a good night, roy.’

* * *

when roy is finally face to face with ed again, at the end of this whirlwind day, it’s in maes’ basement office, roy seated on the butter-soft leather loveseat tucked in the corner. he should be embarrassed, maybe, that ed’s found him more or less making himself at home in maes’ space — that it probably belies how much time he’s spent here, hiding from his real life to have mental breakdowns in the shelter of the hughes’ home.

ed peeks his head around the corner and seems almost surprised to have found him. ‘hey,’ he says, steps inside the doorway and lingers. ‘i just wanted to make sure you were okay.’ 

it’s striking, seeing soft emotion grace his features; ed during their professional relationship existed in either a state of constant dry sarcasm and joke-cracking, or the thinly-disguised glee that came over ed whenever he was talking about science, and the softhearted concern is new, different, but absolutely beautiful all the same. it makes roy feel… special. seen. 

roy’s heart is thundering against his ribcage like bumper cars, and he doesn’t say anything for a long moment. he forces himself to take a couple of deep breaths, forces himself to truly consider the question before he can make himself move to answer it. ‘yeah, i’m okay.’

‘if you wanna go home,’ ed continues, ‘i’m sure al would drive you, or my tipsy ass could take you on a scenic walk through downtown ‘til we find your place, or-’

‘no, no, it’s nothing like that,’ he says, and takes another deep inhale, struggles to take his time with the exhale as his pulse races jackhammer fast. ‘i wanted a minute away from everything, but i’m enjoying the party; i’d rather like to stay.’ 

‘oh,’ ed nods, and he’s staring at roy he’s never seen him before, like he never considered that an option. his eyes heavy and liquid as he looks roy up and down, with renewed interest, with a new point of focus. it feels heavy, as though roy can physically feel the weight of ed’s gaze as he finally enters the room, steps closer to roy. ‘in that case, i mean, i’m still all ears. metaphorically speaking. all eyes. however you wanna think about it.’

he should really pause to think that over — should draft what he’ll say in his mind first, which particular skeletons he’ll be letting out of the closet today, and what’s best kept to himself, never given a corporeal form — but there’s something about ed that has always made him want to trust, even in situations where it seems irrational to trust anyone. so, he steels himself and lets his hands shake and just- does it.

‘i just- it’s so exhausting sometimes, you know?’ he starts, and nearly gets lost in ed’s eyes when their gazes meet. ‘i guess maybe you don’t know — i shouldn’t speak on your behalf — but i just. everything about my life is tiring. my everyday life is takes so much out of me that i never have any energy left to see my friends or do the things i enjoy; i just work until my brain becomes so much mush and headache i have to sleep, then rinse, repeat. new day, same shit.’

roy blinks for a second, then straightens up with a start. suddenly he feels a chill, like his body is physically telling him this is a bad move, and what the fuck is he _doing,_ just laying it all out like that to ed, of all people? ‘oh my god, i’m _so_ sorry, i don’t know what-’

‘don’t freak out,’ ed says easily, and he looks so comfortable, leaning so he’s half-sitting on maes’ desk, his shoulders broad and relaxed and absolutely delicious-looking where they peek out from under his shirt collar. he looks so calm it almost helps roy relax, too. ‘you don’t have to apologize for wanting to talk about shit, you know that, right? it’s like the most human thing in the world.’ 

he gives roy a pointed look — it feels far too intimate, like ed can see right through him — before he continues, gentler, ‘i know what you mean, though. it’s really- i’ve been there, and it’s so fucking tough, and to be honest with you, you do a really good job keeping up the façade. you gotta look really, really closely before you start seeing the cracks.’

it’s _so_ obvious; roy shouldn’t take the bait, but his hands are faster, this time, the impulse too good to resist. ‘how close have you been looking?’ 

ed laughs, color creeping into his cheeks, and roy can feel a tickle of nerves in his stomach, an instinctive reaction that if ed is flustered he probably should be, too. ‘pretty close,’ he admits. ‘but i see you looking at me, too.’

roy’s heart does a tiny, dizzying backflip. ‘it’s hard to take my eyes off of you,’ he finds himself saying, _admitting_ with shaking hands like a teenager overcome with emotion. ‘you’re a very captivating man, ed. i’m not sure if you know that. and i don’t just mean your looks, it’s more- your charisma, your energy. the way you talk to people.’

ed lights up like a christmas tree. ‘you really think that?’ he asks, and roy is suddenly all too aware of the space between them, the way the air feels tense and heavy with potential energy. 

‘i do,’ roy admits, and he feels small for a moment, in the shadow of ed and his endless smile and his ever-flowing kindness. ‘i know that i’ve been- a bit of a disaster lately,’ — that feels like the understatement of the century, but he continues, fumbles blindly onward — ‘but even when i’m an absolute train wreck of a human being, you’re still here, watching me. smiling at me, even, when you think i won’t notice.’

ed’s eyes go wide for a second, and when he looks at roy, it’s electrifying. 

‘tell me if i’m reading this wrong,’ ed says, as though he could be, and it feels like everything is happening in slow motion. roy had never realized before how much physical proximity was a kind of intimacy, but with ed close enough that roy can smell his deodorant and his skin and his sweat, close enough that his body heat is buzzing in the air like radio waves, it’s all he can think about.

it’s easy to forget that edward is left-handed most of the time, but that makes it all the more arresting the times roy does take notice, like right now, standing chest to chest with ed with their parallel hands raised to sign, like looking into a reflecting pool. 

‘al’s been trying to tell me you don’t swing this way,’ ed continues, his hand to close to roy’s that he thinks they might bump by accident. ‘but i’m a scientist first and foremost, roy mustang, and i’ve caught you looking before. i get that feeling like you’re watching me. i know it’s not all in my head.’

roy startles, when he understands ed’s meaning. he thinks about what alphonse had said to him earlier, about people experimenting with ed, and places that in the frame of what this must look like in al’s mind, an older straight man ogling his brother but never expressing any real solid intent. ‘you mean, alphonse thinks i’m- what? straight? a pervert? all of the above?’

he’s speechless for a moment, marvels at how often he has to defend liking men to virtual strangers when his orientation comes up and chuckles at this new kind of misunderstanding. it’s refreshing, at the very least.

regardless. he coughs, for want of something to do with his hands for a moment, and he blinks to try to clear his head. ‘i don’t know where al got his ideas about my preferences, but rest assured i am indeed bisexual. and interested in you. flirting with you, even, as valiantly as i know how, for the last several months, despite having little to show for it.’

ed is just looking at him, his eyes wide and sparking as his thoughts race. ‘you’re so _stupid _sometimes,’ he says, and takes another step forward, extends his right hand until it hits roy’s chest and plants it there, warm and solid against him even through the fabric of his shirt. he’s sure ed can feel the tension seeping into his skin, making him stand up straight and tall and jitter with nerves. 

‘i would- thank you? i’m aware?’ his stomach does a backflip as he fumbles with it.

‘shut up,’ ed signs, their faces so close that his space is roy’s space and vice versa. ed’s nearly touching his mouth. 

roy blinks a few times, but his head is still spinning, dizzy in a way that the alcohol shouldn’t hit him, like he’s forever trying to catch his breath. his vision is fuzzy at the edges, bleary like he’s looking at the world underwater, but ed’s hand on his chest keeps him anchored, keeps him present.

ed’s other hand catches at the hinge of his jaw, guides him in, and he _knows_ what’s about to happen here — has been around long enough that he’s seen this move before — but he still can’t quite believe it’s real. can’t quite believe _ed_ is real, and interested in him, and here, so close they’re sharing breath. 

ed kisses him tenderly, sweetly, and softer than roy has ever seen him before. he touches like he’s afraid that roy might break, like he might bruise if ed grips him too hard, but care doesn’t make him timid; he keeps one hand flat against roy’s chest, but lets the other one roam, from his jaw to the curve of his shoulder to the nape of his neck, tangling gently in his hair and stroking the muscles as if telling him to relax. 

ed leads, and roy is grateful for that; he follows the best he can, feeling clumsy and just a bit delirious, dizzy from the endorphins. ed tastes sweet, and his mouth is soft against roy’s, a few stray strands of hair that have escaped from his bun framing his face. roy wraps his fingers around one, clings to it dumbly and lets ed hold him, touch him, taste him. 

his sense of time is still off, and it feels like they could kiss like this forever; he’s not sure how long it’s been when ed pulls back, but his lips are tingling, sensitive and red, and his heart is still hammering far too fast against the confines of his ribcage. ed must be able to feel it, he realizes, half embarrassed. 

edward’s eyes are glinting like jewels when their gazes meet. ‘you’re incredible,’ he signs, just with the one hand, and roy’s always envied how effortlessly one handed signing comes to someone like ed who’s grown up with it — he understands it, even if it seems like he shouldn’t be able to sometimes. ‘you’ve always- you could’ve said _something.’_

roy feels utterly helpless, drowns for a second in it before he figures out how to tread water. ‘i thought you were straight,’ he admits. he can’t remember the last time he had to fess up to a mistake like that, and it makes him feel childish, dumb. ‘straight and clueless about how your actions were affecting me, and out of my league, among other things- and the universe is a cruel mistress who often gives me near misses like this, and i thought that a friendship with you was the best thing i could ever hope for, i couldn’t risk destroying it because i couldn’t keep my dick in my pants-’

ed’s eyes go straight to roy’s hands, his gaze heavy with intent. ‘you’re not going to have to keep it in your pants for very long,’ he offers, heavy with intent. ‘there’s nothing platonic about the way i look at you.’ 

roy can feel himself sweating, his pulse still thrumming just beneath his skin. if this is how he dies — if edward elric’s molten metal eyes are the last thing he sees, ed’s taste still on his tongue, it will be a fate far kinder than he deserves. ’are you sure this is real?’ he asks dizzly. ‘this can’t be real. this is a particularly cruel dream, or maybe some kind of hallucination.’

ed smiles at him, and it’s like the sun coming out. ‘you know, i kind of feel the same way.’ his faces changes, a bit more serious, windows being shuttered up. ‘i know that this doesn’t- you know- really change anything. i’m a dumbass, but even i know that i’m not gonna, like- heal you, save you, whatever. you’ve got some shit going on right now, and i know that, and i’m not trying to pressure you into anything. we can do this at whatever pace you’d like to, or never at all if you prefer.’

his response is immediate and involuntary, as if by reflex. ‘that is not at all what i would prefer.’

ed laughs, and it’s warm, like a wave kissing his toes. ‘i’m just trying to say that you don’t have to go it alone. i care about you, even the messy parts.’

‘that’s- very kind of you,’ roy says, and he can hardly breathe for a moment, he’s so caught off-guard, head spinning and eyes nearly gone cross. it’s a lot to process, everything that’s happened to him in the last twenty minutes, and edward has always been kind to him, certainly, always been generous, but this is the first time it’s ever felt tender.

‘we definitely don’t have to talk about that now,’ he continues, reading the rigid lines of roy’s frame better than he ever could’ve imagined possible. ed’s eyes are fond, and he’s looking at roy with something in the neighborhood of compassion, maybe, empathy, a different kind of chemistry. ‘or ever, if you don’t want to, although i will probably subject you to at least a couple of tirades about my mental health rollercoaster and how it can get better before i take no for an answer.’

‘you can-’ he blinks, takes a deep breath and exhales so heavily it changes the shape of his whole body. ‘i think i would prefer to not get into a lot of the specifics, right now, but i really-’

roy is grappling with emotions he’s not sure he’s ever felt before, choking on the idea that someone else cares enough to want to talk to him about all of the worst parts of himself, that someone like ed would look at someone like him — floundering slightly but limping on as best he can — and see someone worthy of empathy and support rather than scorn or disgust or both. ‘you’re really, truly an amazing man, edward. i just- i’d love to come back to this, all of this, with you, in a more private setting perhaps-’

‘of course. totally.’ ed gives him a look that implies a hell of a lot without explicitly saying anything, and then offers, ‘somehow i suspect you and i are going to be spending more time together.’

roy can play this game too. ‘you think so?’

ed is grinning, confidence glowing from him like ambient light. ‘personally, i have a lot to say to you,’ he says. 

‘really? most of my plans for you don’t require much talking.’

ed’s eyes go dark, and it makes roy shiver, makes him take a step closer into ed’s space. ‘that’s kind of a ridiculous line,’ he says. ‘are you always this ridiculous?’

‘i have bad news,’ roy says, but he doesn’t even give ed time to jump to conclusions. he doesn’t move out of ed’s space, either, and he can feel the tension in the air in the scant few inches keeping them apart. ‘it’s probably going to get much, much worse.’ 

ed laughs, a tremendous laugh that contorts his entire face, the kind of laugh that shouldn’t be attractive at all from an objective standpoint but still makes roy’s heart perform several advanced-level aerial maneuvers. ‘you realize i’m like a card-carrying nerd, right?’ he’s looking at roy comfortably, softly, like he’s trying to be reassuring. ‘there’s a periodic table above my bed. you don’t have to freak out. it’s still just me.’ 

it’s a throwaway line; it’s an errant thought in ed’s mind and nothing more, and roy should not engage with this; roy should bite his tongue so hard he draws blood, because this is _not_ the kind of first date etiquette his aunt taught him, and he doesn’t need to fuck this up irreperably before he’s even able to take the man on a proper date. 

so, naturally, he takes a deep breath and says exactly the wrong thing. 

‘it’s just always been you.’ 

he can’t stop himself. it’s suicide, and he knows it, and he just- swallows and pulls the trigger. lets the chips fall where they may. 

‘all this time, i’ve tried- i tried not to fall for you, because i knew that this would be complicated, and i’d never wish that upon you — but i just couldn’t stop caring about you. i couldn’t stop trying to make you smile, trying to get you to laugh. and i would’ve kept doing that, just that, for as long as i could, just to be in your life and be able to show you that someone cared.’

the thing, though, is that ed doesn’t get upset. ed doesn’t yell at him, or trying to shove him away in some kind of reflex display of masculinity, or dominance, or a particularly unfortunate mix of the two. 

ed just… nods. locks eyes with him with the heaviest eyes roy has ever seen, and they just look at each other for a moment.

‘yeah,’ ed says, after an uncountable number of seconds. ‘it was always you. i’m still not entirely convinced i’m not dreaming.’

ed is looking at him with _intent, _with heat and desire seeping into his trademark ambitious demeanor as he rakes his eyes up and down roy’s body. roy shivers, even though he isn’t cold.

‘perhaps i can help prove to you that this isn’t a dream.’ he offers ed a shaky smile, a nod towards his usually style. he has to be brazen, in order to pull of a move like this, so his puts on his best smile and takes a deep breath to steady himself. ‘do i kiss you in your dreams?’

ed laughs, and his snorty, eye-rolling chuckle somehow just makes roy all the more smitten. ‘you do a hell of a lot more than that,’ he says, his eyes magnetic, molten metal lurking just beneath the surface. ‘not sure that’s really gonna be a good strategy to prove anything-’

roy takes a step closer, edges ever so slightly into the space between ed’s legs, feels compelled to keep touching ed after he’d glimpsed how glorious it could be that first time. he looks ed in the eyes and drowns, then asks, floundering and desperately trying to play it cool, ‘and if i’m better than your dreams?’

ed barks out a laugh. ‘you’ll take anything as a challenge. you’re like me, like that.’ he pauses, takes a couple of deep inhales and runs his eyes around the perimeter of the room. ‘you don’t have anything to prove; just come make out with me, bastard.’ he takes a half-step towards roy, and it’s an invitation if he’s ever known one.

their first kiss had been soft, sensual and sweet, ed touching him delicately as if he might break.

this… is not that kiss.

ed lets his hands wander, one around roy’s neck and the other fisted in the fabric of roy’s shirt, kissing roy wet and open, soft and messy and playful against him. roy wrestles for control of himself, wrestles to move his limbs and force joints to bend, and when he gets there — gets his body back under control, returns to his conscious mind from whatever supernatural plane he’s been vacationing on — he’s in ed’s space, close enough to smell his shampoo, arms around ed’s chest and one hand tangled in his hair. 

ed isn’t being pushy, per se; it feels a bit like he’s humoring roy, like he’s allowing roy to take a turn, but fuck if roy is going to say no to an opportunity like this. _fuck_ if he’s not going to show ed what he wants and how he wants it.

as much as he’s dying to peel ed out of his shirt and truly _see_ him, he doesn’t want to be too forward, so he keeps his hands on top of ed’s clothes, focuses on the feeling of warm skin and solid muscle through the layers, focuses on pulling ed in as close as possible and closing every last gap between them. he kisses ed rougher, deeper with gasps and choked cries at the edges, teeth clicking together, ed’s hand still clutching at the collar of his shirt. 

ed is laughing, bright like bells chiming, and he has to work to dodge roy’s hands in order to pull back enough to sign. ‘you’re so stubborn,’ he says. 

‘am i- making you uncomfortable? should i-’

‘what? no,’ ed says, puts his other hand on the small of roy’s back to show intent. he’s warm, and roy can feel the weight of his palm against his skin even through the back of his shirt. ‘i didn’t mean it as an insult. and if you’re really serious about trying to fuck in your best friends office in broad daylight, let me at least lock the door first-’

roy’s mind jumps a lot of places, in relatively quick succession: a progression from ‘ed really wants to have sex with me?’ that devolves into a few pretty explicit interpretations of what that might look like — ed’s hair long and loose and spilling all over his bed as roy slowly works him open and takes him apart, ed’s hips working against his as they crash together and fumble to find their rhythm, ed’s gorgeous hands clenching white-knuckled against the deep blue of roy’s sheets. 

roy does _not_ need anything else contributing to the bulge in his pants right now. their legs are pretty well tangled, still, and he can feel ed through his jeans, feel him half-hard against roy’s thigh, as gratifying as it is dizzying. this is real; they’re really doing this.

‘as much as i want to fuck you — and trust me when i say that i do, _god_ i do — i think maes would actually kill me dead if he ever found out.’ 

ed nods, and he doesn’t look upset, per se, maybe just like he’s starting to cool down a little bit. ‘if you’ve got a car-’

‘i do,’ roy offers. it’s been hours since his shots with ed, and he feels nervous, jittery, but not at all drunk. 

‘i’ve got an empty apartment waiting for me,’ ed offers, gives him an arched eyebrow heavy with intent. ‘al’s going to winry’s place after the party, so we’d have the place to ourselves. if you know what i mean.’ 

‘you’re worse than i am,’ roy accuses, but he’s laughing. 

ed is practically beaming at him. ‘shut up,’ he says, but it’s giddy, smiling. roy’s made a bit of a mess of his hair, and a few loose strands have escaped his ponytail and hang free, framing his face. ‘you try to be all tactful after someone just kissed you like that.’

roy flashes him a lopsided grin. ‘i think this is the universe’s way of telling us we deserve each other.’

**Author's Note:**

> there is more coming! the rating will go up! i will not make any promises about when i will post the rest! thanks for coming to my ted talk!!


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